


the night is still young, how dare we sit quietly

by r1ker



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5936290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>daniel invites jack over, non-linear to show's plot. a night ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the night is still young, how dare we sit quietly

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT i know there's some unclarity on whether or not tv was around but i'm gonna go ahead and take my liberties
> 
> daniel has a tiny black-and-white picture box
> 
> that is all
> 
> carry on

Daniel hopes the gesture will be perceived as an olive branch.

 

It's an offer to come to his apartment for an evening, dinner if Jack is so inclined, and partnered with that will be whatever happens to be on TV that particular night. He makes it in the form of a passing comment in the break room one morning. It passes between them as a pot of coffee sputters and brews on the counter in front of them.

 

"Just a suggestion," Daniel tries to soften the impact a little as if his harmless request was really all that earth shattering of an idea. Jack's face is neutral throughout, considering but not immediately dismissing. Soon he comes to his conclusion and offers Daniel a little upturn of his lips.

 

"I'll be there," Jack promises him. Mostly enthusiastic, Daniel can notice. And it'll do. It's more than enough to let Daniel know that maybe not all is lost between them, that their rather lackluster start to their partnership with the SSR can be salvaged in the name of cheap spaghetti and flickering television.

 

When Daniel gets home the night they're due to dine together, he gets to cracking on spaghetti. He's never cooked for more than one – and even that's challenging, you either make not enough or way too much after it's all said and done – but he manages to get his spaghetti pot only half-full of noodles. They don't stick to the bottom and come out uniformly done when he worms one out to give it a taste.

 

He fumbles around the kitchen for the rest of the fixings for dinner with a noodle dangling between his teeth, forgetful that he had to swallow it in his efforts to gather the other things he had in mind for dinner, but he comes to his senses soon.

 

The coffee table in the living room is cleared off, its books and newspapers slid to the second tier of the table swiftly to reveal a clean surface, and Daniel sets up their places like it's a real dinner table. He's even broken out the nicer china his mom left him to have once he moved into his own place. It's a little stark when paired with cheap noodles and tomato sauce but as he's always said to anything, it's the thought that counts.

 

Jack knocks on the door just as the sun outside settles behind a mask of buildings to hide away for the night. Daniel makes his way across the living room to answer, trying not to catch himself on a few of the books from the coffee table that slid to the floor, but soon he's opening the door with what he hopes is a not-too-excited-for-this face.

 

Jack, however, is all smiles, a six-pack tucked beneath one arm and his finest street clothes on. Daniel tries to tamp down the way his stomach flips when he looks Jack up and down, head to toe, eyes catching on a loose t-shirt paired with his dark trousers from earlier in the day. Loafers have been replaced with dark shoes that could be his weekend sneakers. Either way, Daniel's all about him not dressed so frigidly like he is at work.

 

He wishes he were the same way, still in his trouser socks and pants but with the first two buttons on his work shirt undone. Something in him was telling him it'd send the wrong message if he went full-out like he does the second he comes home, stripping off his suit like a shell to all but throw himself into his pajamas, but it is what it is.

 

"Hi," Jack says, shaking the pack of beer out from under his arm to show Daniel. "I brought provisions." Daniel snickers – of course he would, he didn't stipulate otherwise against alcohol – and steps out of the way to formally invite him in. Jack takes a few careful steps in so he can better evaluate Daniel's living space and gives a nod of appreciation when he sets sights (and smells, Daniel can hear him whisper _oh, good God, he made spaghetti_ ) on the dinner nearby.

 

"Do you mind?" Jack points to the couch as if to ask permission to take his seat when he's had it all this time, and Daniel acquiesces with a small noise. Jack sits down rather extravagantly, settling into the cushions with his legs falling apart so he can have constant sight on what he's deemed his plate of spaghetti, and yanks out one of the beers from the cardboard holders. Daniel's almost to the kitchen to retrieve the beer opener when he hears the telltale snick and the click of a lid falling to the hardwood floor.

 

Jack's, in true fashion, opened it on the lip of the coffee table and shown his handiwork to Daniel where he stands in the doorway with a sheepish grin. "Didn't want to make you go to all the trouble to get something I learned how to do in the army." Daniel can't help but excuse it; he's done it a few times himself and just let it slip that it could also be done on home furniture and not a boot heel. He grabs a beer and joins Jack on the couch, making it a point not to sit too close.

 

Daniel doesn't seek any sort of permission before he delves into his spaghetti, eating more daintily when he considers the fact that he is among company and not by himself (eating boorishly in front of Jack wouldn't settle well with him, he wouldn't dare give Jack any ammunition for whatever conversations were to transpire on Monday morning).

 

"You're a good cook," Jack says around a mouthful of his dinner and Daniel feels his face flush hot. It really wasn't all that much to call home about but if what he could manage like this could impress Jack he'll take it. The words are rounded with unrelenting politeness, so unorthodox to Daniel that he's halfway anticipating something more backhanded to come around the corner, but it doesn't.

 

Instead he gets Jack taking a few more hearty forkfuls of his spaghetti, the television in front of them flickering on with the evening news rather than a movie like it ought to have been should they have not forgotten earlier on, but it's perfect. Daniel watches, out of the corner of his eye, Jack glance over at him from time to time.

 

Jack's got a soft spot for the way Daniel's profile looks, the angularity of it so highlighted when he's got his face turned away from Jack to regard the television. If he had to put it in to words, when his gawking went on a little too long to be considered an intense study, he'd have to say he loved the way he looked. No one he'd ever seen before had such a dark brow sheltering warm, dark eyes, a sharp nose and bowed lips. Everyone else he'd seen on the streets seemed so flat when compared mentally to Daniel.

And that's not the three-fourths of the beer in him influencing it. He had chosen to hide his admiration for the man in the way he acted at the office but now, outside of that environment, he's got nothing to lose. Of course, there's always the chance that nothing to lose could turn to everything if he chooses to make the move he's wanted to make for so long.

 

After the spaghetti's done, sides of their forks gone around the plate several times to take up any leftover sauce, they sit back and settle more into the couch and get comfortable. Daniel can't help but notice the way Jack scoots a little closer, lets his shoulder bump against Daniel's in his post-dinner sluggishness. He's not going to say anything because he's not entirely opposed to it. Besides, it's not like pasta's not enough to make someone exhausted enough to lean on anything that happens to be nearby.

 

Looking at it from any angle Daniel can see where this is going. If not for the leaning-on-each-other debacle he can see Jack's hand snaking down to the side of the couch where the beer is, grabbing for another and opening it in that same showy fashion he did before. He takes a few long swigs of it, ones too deep to be considered sips, and when he pulls back Daniel can see something like this causes him to be deemed a lightweight; Jack's eyes have gone glassy around the middle, blinking slowly.

 

"Spaghetti doesn't cushion beer very well, doesn't it?" Daniel asks him to test the waters of sobriety. They're definitely starting to be troubled when it takes Jack a few seconds extra to respond. "You'll do fine. Push comes to shove I've got garlic bread in the breadbox. That'll soak it up for when you need to get back home."

 

Jack bats his eyes at him in that same slow way but adds a lazy smile, couples it with yet another long drink from his beer. It passes like that between them for several more minutes, Daniel barely finishing his first and Jack well into his fourth. The show on the TV ends up being some news special, something Daniel can't discern given for the poor picture quality and for the fact his hearing's starting to go muffled by way of the beer and having Jack so damned close to him.

 

Soon Jack catches on and finishes his beer, sets the empty bottle down on the table with a heavy thud a little too close to the dinner plates, and turns to Daniel. Daniel's almost frozen in place when he realizes the sound of Jack's breathing is beginning to eclipse any dialogue from the TV. Jack puts one hand to his arm, weighing heavy though there's still a sleeve keeping him from any skin contact.

 

"Thanks for dinner," he says and Daniel nods – it was no big deal but somehow, by Jack saying what he said and how he said it, it meant much _more_ – but makes no move to shrug off Jack's hand. He lets the hand go to his shoulder, sliding across the expanse high up on his back. _Oh, to hell with it,_ is what stays in Daniel's mind when the beer aids in Jack leaning in to kiss him. It's light, so light that it doesn't even register at first.

 

It does to Jack, pulling Daniel more to him to give him more access to his mouth. Daniel opens up for him out of blind need that he can't help but be satisfied. Jack ups his efforts when far too long has passed simply getting warmed up, a hand going to Daniel's jaw, the tips of its fingers pressing gently at the space just below Daniel's ear. And that's the ticket, that's what gets Daniel melting and his mouth opening under Jack's.

 

Jack's crafty when he's busy in other ways, free hand working at the buttons to Daniel's shirt while he continues to kiss him within an inch of his life. Daniel tries to help as much as he can, considering how busy he is right now, his shoulder rotating to ease the shirt off of his body. Jack takes it as an excuse to run his hands over skin now exposed.

 

He can't believe he's denied the feel of another man for so long; Daniel runs warm through and through, from the freckled tops of his shoulders and the smooth backs of his arms, to the crooks of his elbows and slope of his spine, not an inch of him cold from what Jack can feel.

 

Daniel isn't giving his objection to being touched like this in the slightest. In fact he can't seem to think straight with how maddening the passes of Jack's hands are becoming as seconds tick by, their touch unrelenting. He lets Jack push him onto his back on the rest of the couch, consuming him as much as he can with how Jack leans over him.

 

"I was waiting for you to bring me over for something like this," Jack admits between one kiss and the next. Daniel nods like he can understand anything over three words at this point; Jack could be giving him in depth analysis on one of the thousands of cases they're working in what could be considered the real world and all Daniel could do was grunt in acknowledgement.

 

There's so much they could do right now considering that just kissing's got them hard, but Daniel can't find it in himself to go forth with anything other than Jack touching him through his slacks. He's being tended to so right with one of Jack's hands trailing over the outline of his cock just on the edge of madness.

 

"It's nice to touch you and not just ogle at you." Daniel gulps, didn't know it ran that deep for him. That makes him give into Jack's ministrations even more, tempting finally with touching Jack's lap, not quite close enough to give Jack the same. Daniel has to pull back not just for that reason but he really can't breathe right, head floating from lack of oxygen that Jack's been not-so-intently depriving him of so far.

 

He lifts himself off of the couch with a great deal of effort – it's almost embarrassing to him how tuckered out he's getting now – and kneels before Jack, looking up at him. Jack nods to let Daniel's hands pull down his pants to just beneath the crooks of his knees and Daniel's given a first-hand glance at something so intimate he never thought he'd get a chance to see before in his life.

 

Jack's aching for it at this point in the night to where Daniel feels he has no choice but oblige the obvious need exhibiting in him. He lets his head dip down, where he's at eye level with what's leaking from the tip of Jack's cock, and touches lightly around the base to Jack's sharp intake of breath. When he looks back up to make sure this is all alright he laughs at just how insistent Jack's nod is. With that he bows back down, opening his mouth just enough to let the jut of his lower lip brush along the underside of Jack's cock.

 

The answer to that is astounding.

 

Jack makes a noise this side of breathy, all exhale with just a little moan to keep Daniel ravished as his lip turns to his mouth along Jack's cock, tongue moving up to catch on the tip after he's had enough of that. Daniel's arms prickle with bumps when one of Jack's hands settles heavy on the top of his head, fingers weaving through dark hair and undoing it from its perfunctory comb. Most of all the feeling of fingertips along his scalp makes Daniel shudder, perhaps even moan if his mouth wasn't currently busy.

 

He gets the bright idea to touch himself as he moves to properly sucking Jack's cock, hand snaking down to where his knees are spread yet braced against the front of the couch. He has to stop himself from jumping when his hand wraps around his dick and begins to stroke to the rhythm with which he moves with Jack. It's good, it's all so good he's slapping himself for not proposing this sooner.

 

Whether that's the admittedly good dinner they had or the sex they're having, he'll never discern, but perhaps that's better.

 

Jack doesn't tell him when he's about to come, rather makes a strangled noise and tugs sharply on Daniel's hair before spilling down his throat. Daniel fails to hide the grunt he lets out in answer, swallowing in a way he hadn't anticipated to avoid choking or, God forbid, coughing it back up. The taste and the smell, the feel of it filling his mouth, is nothing he's ever experienced before, but that's not to say it doesn't make a thrill run quickly up his spine. Soon he too is finding his own release with several pumps of his hand around his cock, coming in his pants while Jack softens slightly in his mouth.

 

After finding their places in coming down from the highs given to them, they can't find each other's eyes. When Daniel does see that the stars and prickles are fading from his view he wishes he could take a picture of just how sluggish Jack looks. He's red faced no doubt, chest heaving for breath with his tongue running over his lips to soothe where he had bitten them in an effort to stay quiet. Daniel smiles at him though he can't quite be sure if Jack can see him, pulls himself back up to lean over Jack with both hands braced on the side of the couch, and kisses him.

 

While he was sure Jack wouldn't like the taste still lingering in the fine points of his mouth Jack doesn't mind at all, kisses him all the same, equaling the passion had earlier despite being thoroughly exhausted from his release. Though they both could use a fresh set of clothes, before that a bath if there's time, they're going to have to settle for calming down in the living room of Daniel's apartment. After all, the night they promised themselves isn't over yet.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks nicki minaj 4 the title btw


End file.
